Warm Hearts
by zestylime
Summary: A Modern-Day Coffee Shop AU For L, who inspires and encourages me.
1. Bergamot

Every Wednesday there's an online order placed for a hot Earl Grey tea, a triple espresso, one chai latte and six hot chocolates with whipped cream. The first time the receipt printed, it nearly gave Maria a heart attack. It just kept coming out of the printer, and when she placed it in the ticket minder, she worried she wouldn't have it ready within the 15 minute window.

Now, she's a master at predicting the time, often starting the order before it prints. She knows even if she can't finish it in time, Frau Schmidt, the kindly older lady who comes to pick it up, will wait. The tea is hers, so Maria always has it ready, (steeped for three minutes, allowed to cool, a splash of honey and lemon) and waiting for her when she comes in. Frau Schmidt often perches at one of their small tables and waits for the remaining orders, while telling Maria stories about the children that are treated to her rich hot chocolates once a week.

Maria knows within a month each of the children's names, and that Liesl is the oldest, (wants desperately to be allowed to order actual espresso, but must settle for a chai latte at her father's insistence) and that Friedrich, Louisa, Kurt, Brigitta, Marta, and Gretl's highlight each week is when Frau Schmidt arrives with their hot chocolates, as they are allowed to have them in the parlour with their father, and they love every moment they can spend with him.

The triple espresso is his drink, and from what Frau Schmidt tells her, Maria thinks it must match the man's personality and mood to a tee. Bitter, dark, strong, not a drink for amateurs. She wonders if he sips it, tasting the roast, enjoying the boldness of flavors, or if he merely gulps it down, a means to an end, some caffeine to stave off boredom and headaches. She makes his last, putting it in an extra cup so that it's hot when it arrives to him.

Frau Schmidt has told her very little about "the Captain," as she refers to him, when Maria asks if he liked the last espresso she sent (it was a new blend, something earthier, she had roasted the beans slower and longer for more of a burnt caramel flavour) she replies that he must have enjoyed it about as much as any other, because he didn't say anything against it, and let her place the order again this week. "I only know his opinion on something if he doesn't enjoy it anymore" She shrugs apologetically "In which case he'll tell me to just get rid of it. Last week he decided he hated the curtains in one of the rooms, so they're all being replaced tomorrow."

Maria thinks about this for a minute. She's already surmised that a man with 7 children and a housekeeper, who can afford to spend nearly $40 on coffee must be quite well off. Now she wonders if he isn't eccentric as well. "What are you doing with old curtains?" she asks.

"Oh, I suppose we'll just throw them out with the rubbish."

"If it wouldn't be too much trouble, I would love to see the fabric. We could use it for curtains here, or tablecloths perhaps! I'm always searching the donation box but I can never find enough of the same fabric, where it won't look so hodgepodge."

"I think I can manage that," Frau Schmidt muses, "The fabric is certainly in good condition still. And it's very cheery. I'll bring it next week."

And so, the coffee shop has tablecloths in a lovely green brocade, and there's enough left over for Maria to make a set of matching aprons, one for every day of the week.


	2. Ristretto

The next Tuesday, a tall man in a crisply tailored wool overcoat slams open the door to the shop as if he owns it. His hair is perfectly coiffed, his polished shoes click briskly as he strides in, frowning as he looks up at the menu. Maria gapes, wiping down the wand of the steamer, and stares for what feels like an age, before asking brightly, "Can I help you?"

He starts, noticing her for the first time, and pulls a sheet of paper from his pocket, squinting as he tries to make out. "Triple espresso" he snaps "and seven hot-" "OH!" She interrupts him, and his eyes snap to hers, his focus and judgement instantly making her nervous "Liesl always gets a chai tea latte. You must be Frau Schmidt's Captain! It's so good to finally meet you." Inside, she wasn't sure it was so good at all.

He stares at her, then folds the list with precise movements, placing it in his pocket, and pulling the flap closed with a snap of his wrist. He doesn't break her gaze, and she stares bravely back.  
"I suppose," he says carefully, with a pull at the corner of his mouth, "it would be more accurate to say she's MY Frau Schmidt. My housekeeper." He rushes the last, as if to emphatically clarify her status.

"Is she alright? I only ask because, well, she usually comes on Wednesdays, and here YOU are, instead. It's just, she's always so kind to me." Maria finishes, somewhat shy now, this man and his imposing nature setting her a little on edge.

"She's perfectly all right. She has Tuesdays off. Today is my daughter Marta's birthday," His expression softens somewhat, and she can tell, beneath his stoic, commanding presence, he has great love for his children. "...and she wanted nothing more than, in her words, 'the best hot chocolate in the world from Miss Maria at the coffee shop' ".

Maria blushes, a hand flying to her mouth, covering her shocked expression. "Oh! I didn't realize your children knew my name! Oh, what a dear. Tell me, does little Miss Marta like sprinkles?" It might have been the light, but she would swear that the Captain's eyes sparkled slightly at her enthusiasm.

"Sprinkles, sparkles, anything and EVERYTHING pink." he muses, wryly. He shrugs. "She's the girliest of the lot. Liesl's too old for dolls and sweets now, Louisa's always been a tomboy. Brigitta has preferred reading to pretty much anything else. Gretl, my youngest...she's shy and just wants to be with her brothers and sisters when they play. But for Marta...she's always wanted to be a fairy, or a princess. And I find I always need to indulge her."

Maria was no longer afraid of him. The second he began to talk about his children his entire posture relaxed, and he became, dare she think it, almost friendly.

"Have a seat please, Captain. I'll have all your drinks ready in just a moment for you"

She busied herself for a minute as he took off his coat, sitting, smoothing the table cloth with a puzzled expression. Suddenly she was at his elbow again, a breathless whirl, sparkling eyes and a mischievous smile. Holding a small porcelain cup, she gently slid it across the table in front of him.

"Now I can see what you really think of my espresso. I always thought it was a shame that you had to wait to drink it, when it gets so bitter if it sits for too long. Drink it now, and let me know. I made a new blend, and I want to see what you think."

He's taken off guard, and his hand reaches for the cup without thinking, catching her fingertips. Her hands are warm. "Thank you" he murmurs, captivated by her genuine earnestness, her friendly care soliciting politeness from him in return.

He watches her work, her short blonde hair whipping as she steams milk, the artistry in her motions evident. She's pleasing to look at...not the type of woman he usually meets (made up to the nines, hair, nails, brand name fashion, screaming to be NOTICED) yet somehow she attracts his attention more. Light, lithe, her motions fluid, almost like a dance. She moves between the machines with a competence and a grace he seldom sees, and he sips his espresso as he thinks about the problem that is Maria.

The problem with Maria is, he thinks, that she's right. The espresso is far better when immediately consumed. He had always enjoyed it at his home, frankly, the reason he continued to allow Frau Schmidt to patronize this coffee shop once a week, was their espresso. He takes another sip, watching as she slips each drink into a holder. Over the shrill sound of the steamer was that her, whistling to herself? He's charmed. Her care, her joy...he hasn't felt quite so invigorated by meeting someone new in a long time, perhaps ever. He usually dreads social contact, forced conversation, public interaction,and yet, here, he feels at ease. He finishes his drink, moving to the counter, and takes his wallet out of his pocket.

She notices him at the register, and places the two carriers in front of him. She points to the one marked with a L. "This is the chai tea latte, for Liesl." Then, grinning, "and I'm sure you can tell which one is Miss Marta's."

He could, indeed. The whipped cream was piled so high she had needed a rounded lid for the cup, and it was topped with every colored sprinkle, including some sort of pink sugar.

"She'll love it," he deadpans, "although, carrying it home will be an experience."

She laughs, delighted, no doubt picturing him with the highly festive hot chocolate, navigating the streets.

"Did you need help carrying them to your car?"

A wild desire seized him, the desire to ask her to help him to his car, to come to his home, to deliver her lovingly crafted creations to his excited and happy children herself, to see firsthand the love and joy that she had made happen in his home. To spend some time, sipping coffee, in his home, with him. A desire to find out more about this smiling woman with the sparkling eyes and the sunshine hair. Wild, and vastly inappropriate. He shakes his head.

"I think I can manage. Here," he hands her his card, "don't let me leave without paying. I want to be a customer in good standing."

She laughs, ringing him through. "Please, you're practically my benefactor. Sometimes I think your weekly order keeps my business afloat!"

He frowns slightly. "That won't do. I can't have you closing shop, not now that I know how your espresso really tastes." Unable to help himself, he leans in as he takes his card back from her. She smells like chocolate and espresso, and he could drown in the blue of her eyes. "It was fantastic, you know. I'll never be able to enjoy it properly from home again. Smooth and creamy, and that smoky flavor...it was different than the ones you've made me before." She swallowed, nodding. Was it his imagination, or had she leaned closer as well? He couldn't breathe.

"Does that mean," she rasped, breaking the silence in a husky whisper that went through him like a thunderbolt. She licked her lips. "Does that mean you'll be back, Captain?"

"And often. I think I may take over some of Frau Schmidt's coffee duties. Or perhaps I deserve more than just one espresso per week. And Maria?"

"Hmm?" She was staring at him, her expression dreamy, eyes slightly glazed. He wants to believe what he sees, wanting to believe, so much, that as he was flirting with her, she was flirting back. "My name is Georg. I'm not always the Captain."

"I see..." She blinks slowly, then smiles, and he has the uncanny feeling that she had seen more than he intended. "A pleasure to meet you Georg. Please give the happiest of birthday wishes to Marta from me.

He picks up the trays and backs out of the door with a small wave, restraining a laugh as she mock salutes him in return. How had she made him smile more in five minutes than he had smiled in the past week? Why did he want to know more about her, her life, everything she wanted and dreamed? How had she captivated him so?

And as he entered his house, passing out drinks to six happy children and one blissfully ecstatic birthday girl, a final question entered his mind.

Had she been wearing an apron made out of his old drapes?


End file.
